


symphonies in my head

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Deputy Derek Hale, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Past Braeden/Derek Hale, Sheriff Derek Hale, Single Parent Derek, flash mob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third anniversary. A time for solving cold cases and embarrassing oneself completely. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	symphonies in my head

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for prompt #129 - Accomplice at fullmoon_ficlet. I had this idea for a musical wedding proposal, and I asked my teenage daughter _what song would Stiles use to propose to Derek_ and she looked through Spotify and played "Trumpets" by Jason Derulo and it was _perfect_ , and thus, Stiles used it. The title and the lyrics in the story both come from that song. This is a slightly edited version from what was posted on fullmoon_ficlet.
> 
> As always, I do not own the world nor characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

“What, exactly, is it that we’re doing tonight, Stiles?” Derek leans against the wall with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Even in his late 30s, with grey streaking his hair and beard, he is unfairly attractive and distracting, and Stiles has to force himself to stay on point.

“Oh, crime,” he says offhandedly, loving the way Derek snorts in response.

“Firefly quote. Not helpful,” Derek points out.

Stiles would beg to differ; any Kaylee quote is automatically adorable at the least. However, he has a point to make, too. “Actually, it’s accurate.” He tugs open the top drawer on the filing cabinet, handily unlocked with a key that he’s had since his father was sheriff. He rifles through the files until he finds the one he wants and tugs it free, just in time for a hand to cover his and nudge him to put it back.

“Not accurate,” Derek says, as the file slips back into place. “Because one, I will not be your accomplice in your life of crime. I’m the sheriff; I am supposed to stop you. Two, there is absolutely no reason to pull any of these cold cases on date night. Investigating a cold case isn’t a _date_ , Stiles.”

“I’m pretty sure _research_ practically counted as a date when we first met,” Stiles says dryly. “If you ignore the part where you were crawling in my window, and we weren’t romantically involved until fifteen years later. Besides. I thought that solving an old cold case for you might be a nice anniversary present.”

“Solving a cold case?” One eyebrow goes up, and Derek does _not_ look like he believes a word Stiles is saying.

“Yes.” He nudges Derek out of the way and pulls the file back out. It’s one of the ones Braeden and Stiles had looked at more than a dozen years ago, when she was stuck on bed rest and he was bored and trying to be helpful. “I haven’t thought about it for a long time—since before Beth was born—but Lydia and I were doing some translations last week and I ran into something that I think means this one falls on the supernatural side of the fence.”

“Hm?”

He knows that look, knows it means Derek is caught, and Stiles grins inwardly. He lays the folder on the table, starts outlining exactly how the evidence in the case points towards a little known clan of water nymphs. Derek immediately pulls two more cases, and by the time an hour has gone by, they have covered a board in information and Derek is sure he knows exactly where the bodies should be hidden, within a mile or two, good enough for a small pack of werewolves with highly trained noses to sniff them out.

And an hour of case work also just happens to be the perfect amount of time. When Stiles’s phone chirps, he checks it and sets it aside.

“Reminder?”

“Reservation,” Stiles says, which is close enough to the truth that it shouldn’t set off any alarms. “Do you think you’ve gotten enough out of your present that we can go get some dinner?”

Derek ducks his gaze, grinning, and cleans things up. Stiles is amazed to see that expression, to know it’s for _him_. He’s been by Derek’s side as a friend through so many of his relationships when they were younger, then watched Derek go it alone for a lone time. He never thought he’d be this lucky. That _they_ would be this lucky.

He ushers Derek into his car—sadly, the Jeep died long ago, but he has to admit, he loves his little Mazda—so they can get to the diner on time. Stiles is driving, since this date night was his to plan, and Derek has no idea where they’re going. His heart starts racing when they get close to the diner, and he breathes as evenly as he can, trying to slow it down.

“What?” Derek asks, and Stiles smiles, trying to allay suspicion.

“I called ahead. Asked Flo to set up something nice, since _diner_ doesn’t usually scream three year anniversary.” It’s a half truth. It’s even most of the truth. And it is _exactly_ why he’s nervous. If this doesn’t go right, he’s going to look like an idiot. He just hopes his actual accomplice for the night has managed to get everything in place.

They walk through the door and wave at Flo, who just points to the far end of the diner where they usually sit. The table has an actual tablecloth over it, and a vase with a single red rose in the center. Stiles walks quickly so he can pull out one chair and Derek smirks as he sits, nudging the other chair out with his toe.

Flo drops menus on the table, murmuring, “Happy anniversary. Dinner’s on me tonight, sheriff.”  She glances at Stiles. “Evening.”

“Thanks, Flo.” Stiles doesn’t need to open the menu, doesn’t need to do anything except get this show started. His heart is still fluttering, his finger tapping against the table until Derek covers his hand to hold it still.

“Stiles.” His gaze is intent. “Yes, it’s a diner, but I love it. It’s _our_ diner. Flo’s known us since you were a teenager and she was trying to keep your father eating healthy.”

His father. Stiles glances at the door.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Stiles does his best to keep his voice steady. There’s a thump in the background, and Derek’s eyebrows go up again, and Stiles knows what should be there, who’s sitting on the counter just like they’d rehearsed.

He can hear a fucking pin drop in the diner and he’s pretty sure everyone’s eyes are on him.

Now or never. _Now or never_.

He inhales roughly, stands up to sing along with the music that’s just beginning. “ _Every time that you get undressed / I hear symphonies in my head_.”

“Stiles…”

He shakes his head, holds up one finger as he keeps singing. He can’t stop, can’t look behind him, can’t look at the other people who he _knows_ are there. He just _sings_. When he gets to the trumpets, he dances, and he feels someone next to him, her hand in his briefly, and he smiles to see Beth there. 

It’s all going as planned.

There’s drumming on the countertop, and he sees Scott and Isaac out of the corner of his eye, seated at the long counter, twisting slightly on their stools as they drum along. His father should be looking out from around a booth at the other end of the diner, and Cora whispers _dork_ as she joins him and Beth, dancing.

It’s surprisingly easy to get the entire diner involved—even the ones who have no idea what’s going on—to have them all up and singing, laughing when Stiles modifies the lyrics and sings out, “ _Is it weird that your thong reminds me of a Katy Perry song_?”

By the time it ends, Stiles is on his knees in front of Derek, hands splayed, shoulders shimmying as the music fades. He is out of breath, heart racing and he tries to read Derek’s expression. Amused. Maybe more bemused. Gaze skittering from his sister to his daughter to their pack and friends and the people who frequent the diner.

Then Derek looks back to Stiles and he just raises his eyebrows.

Beth elbows Stiles sharply in one shoulder, and Cora knocks into him from the other side.

“Marry me.” He had this whole speech prepared, but he can’t remember a word of it now. “You are like symphonies in my head, dude, and I just… we’re good together. We’re really good, and I already made sure that neither Cora or Beth were going to rip my throat out. And my dad—he likes you better than me, but you already knew that since he made sure you got his position when he retired. I mean dude, you even look good with grey in your hair. We’re getting old. I just want to get old together. Will you do that with me?”

Derek stays silent.

Beth sighs. “ _Dad_.”

“Don’t keep us all in suspense here, Derek,” Cora says dryly. “Because if you do, Stiles might start dancing again.”

He can’t breathe. He really can’t breathe. He wheezes once, and Derek is _right there_ , cursing under his breath as he frames Stiles’s face, lands on the floor with him, nose to nose, brushing a kiss against his lips. “Yes,” Derek says, “and don’t you dare go into a panic attack now.”

“Or he’ll use your real name,” Beth warns. “He still does that to me.” 

“It’s a sign of affection.” Stiles forces the words out, sucking in air after them and holding it. “You said yes.” He raises a hopeful gaze to meet Derek’s, gets a kiss as a reward.

“I said yes,” Derek confirms.

“Get up off the floor so I can start serving dinner,” Flo calls out. “Everyone take your seats. One special engagement party coming right up.”

Stiles holds on to Derek as they both rise, Derek tugging him into a hug and sliding hands down his back.

“Oh my God, not in front of the teenager,” Beth sulks before Cora draws her away with a murmur about giving her father a moment and Beth asking _which one_.

Holy crap, he doesn’t just get Derek; Stiles is going to be a _father_ when this happens.

“I’m impressed.” Derek holds the chair out for Stiles this time and he drops into it limply, relaxed after the stress of managing to get through the proposal.

“I had help,” Stiles admits. “Your daughter has a devious teenage brain—I credit Braeden for that, by the way. And Cora was entertained by the thought of potentially embarrassing the hell out of you. The pack… they helped too, but honestly, Beth did most of the work. Although I picked the song. And the location.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re the one who picked a song about undressing me,” Derek says dryly, although he’s grinning. “You can do that later, if you want.”

“Oh my _God_ , Dad, I can _hear_ you!” Beth yells from the other end of the diner, and even Stiles can hear his dad laughing and suggesting that maybe Beth might want to stay at his place for the night with her aunt Cora.

It’s a good idea, and as Beth agrees, Derek just grins again and it makes Stiles’s heart leap in all the good ways.

“So this was your crime for the night,” Derek murmurs, and Stiles takes his hands across the table, squeezes his fingers.

“I had accomplices, and it required careful planning to surprise you.” Stiles catches his lower lip in his teeth, watches Derek closely. “I love you. All of you—crazy pack, sour attitude, teenage daughter. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Good.” Derek palms the nape of his neck, kissing him slowly across the table. “Because I’m not planning on letting you go. Now let’s eat and get home; I want to help you hear those symphonies.”

Stiles really doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. “Bring it on, Flo!” he calls out. “I’ve got somewhere else to be.”

There are trumpets, violins, and drums in his head, but more importantly, there’s Derek, right here, right now, and for always, and that’s all the symphony Stiles needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
